JК
Something Happened :: Хеллер Джозеф
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Nobody knows what I've done
Nobody knows what I've done. Everybody is impressed with how bravely I've been able to move into Kagle's position and carry on with the work of organizing the convention. No one understands that carrying on bravely was the easiest thing to do.
I get to make my speech, finally. It is a solid success (and nobody cares. Nobody, I learn, remembers shortly afterward what it was even about. I had entertained the hope that one of the officials, in commending me, would suggest that mimeographed copies be made and distributed by Public Relations to executives in other divisions of the company, trade publications, and Chambers of Commerce. None do). My speech, at Arthur Baron's suggestion, was kept short. I spoke for exactly three minutes. Kagle, who opened the convention, introduced me lavishly in a speech lasting fifteen. Green spoke for twenty-seven minutes, arrogating to himself the entire time I had budgeted for his department, and was glittering and boring.
"I enjoyed your speech, Jack," I complimented him.
"Would you like a copy?" he responded. "I've had it mimeographed."
"I was going to ask."
"Be sure you credit me if you ever quote any of it. I'm thinking of having it published."
His eyes are hunting behind me already for bigger game. (I am still not important enough for him — this year.) He deserts me for Horace White, who jettisons him by moving to Lester Black, who is listening attentively to baleful muttermgs about me from Johnny Brown, with whom I am going to have to talk strongly soon, and of whom I am afraid. People seem dazzled by the swift competence with which I appear to be taking things under control.
Systematically, I am putting my affairs in order. I tick them off my list.
I have told my wife I love her.
We have decided to keep Derek longer (he may get better. They may be wrong. They're finding new things out every day) and have found a nurse for him who may work out (the first two replacements wouldn't stay, and this one has body odor).
I have given my daughter a car of her own. Her spirits seem to be picking up. (I bought my wife a new convertible she likes, sent her shopping for the new house we need. It's not a career, but it will have to be furnished. My wife won't take a vacation without me. We are now a three-car family.) My daughter promises she will pass her high school courses this year and tells us she wants to go to college. She says she's stopped telling lies. (She may be telling the truth.)
I have retired Ed Phelps and fired Red Parker.
Nobody knows what I've done
Nobody knows what I've done. Everybody is impressed with how bravely I've been able to move into Kagle's position and carry on with the work of organizing the convention. No one understands that carrying on bravely was the easiest thing to do.
I get to make my speech, finally. It is a solid success (and nobody cares. Nobody, I learn, remembers shortly afterward what it was even about. I had entertained the hope that one of the officials, in commending me, would suggest that mimeographed copies be made and distributed by Public Relations to executives in other divisions of the company, trade publications, and Chambers of Commerce. None do). My speech, at Arthur Baron's suggestion, was kept short. I spoke for exactly three minutes. Kagle, who opened the convention, introduced me lavishly in a speech lasting fifteen. Green spoke for twenty-seven minutes, arrogating to himself the entire time I had budgeted for his department, and was glittering and boring.
"I enjoyed your speech, Jack," I complimented him.
"Would you like a copy?" he responded. "I've had it mimeographed."
"I was going to ask."
"Be sure you credit me if you ever quote any of it. I'm thinking of having it published."
His eyes are hunting behind me already for bigger game. (I am still not important enough for him — this year.) He deserts me for Horace White, who jettisons him by moving to Lester Black, who is listening attentively to baleful muttermgs about me from Johnny Brown, with whom I am going to have to talk strongly soon, and of whom I am afraid. People seem dazzled by the swift competence with which I appear to be taking things under control.
Systematically, I am putting my affairs in order. I tick them off my list.
I have told my wife I love her.
We have decided to keep Derek longer (he may get better. They may be wrong. They're finding new things out every day) and have found a nurse for him who may work out (the first two replacements wouldn't stay, and this one has body odor).
I have given my daughter a car of her own. Her spirits seem to be picking up. (I bought my wife a new convertible she likes, sent her shopping for the new house we need. It's not a career, but it will have to be furnished. My wife won't take a vacation without me. We are now a three-car family.) My daughter promises she will pass her high school courses this year and tells us she wants to go to college. She says she's stopped telling lies. (She may be telling the truth.)
I have retired Ed Phelps and fired Red Parker.